Exodus
by silvereyedbitch
Summary: This would be my response to certain accusations made recently that were totally uncalled for. Warnings: 100% sarcasm and not a real adventure at all. Just some bitchy dialogue between Friedman's characters.


**Summary**: This would be my response to certain accusations made recently that were totally uncalled for. I apologize if any were offended, but I had truly meant no harm, nor did I steal anything from anyone knowingly. This is to be my last post on this site. Some may rejoice. Others, not so much. I am also removing all of my other 20 fics from here as well since they are so offensive to people's eyes.

**Warnings**: 100% sarcasm and not a real adventure at all. Just some bitchy dialogue between Friedman's characters.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Coldfire Trilogy nor any of C.S. Friedman's characters. And if any other damn person has posted something similar to this, then I apologize for that offense as well. Don't worry, you no longer have to put up with me here. Or maybe anywhere. Thanks Saris.

**Exodus**

"Gerald, what the hell?!" Damien exclaimed, walking in on a room in various states of disarray. Worktables had been reduced to splinters. Paper lay everywhere, some of it shredded. Most of the furniture in evidence had the appearance of having been singed by a certain type of heatless flame… Gerald rounded on his counterpart, responding, "It's these reviews, or the lack thereof! Haven't you been paying attention for the last year or so?" Damien stared blankly, causing the adept to slap the table nearest him in frustration; and then it, too, collapsed. "This is what I'm talking about! No one cares about us anymore. Our tale is over 20 years old now, and those who still find entertainment and value in them are growing fewer as I rant!" He flopped down on an almost-whole sofa chair.

"Damien, there are some unfortunate souls who even write about us in order to keep the legends alive. So-called fan fiction writers. And some are quite good; others, like the one putting words in my mouth now, are passing strange and only have the bare rudiments of literary composing at their fingertips. However, at least they're trying." Damien carefully stepped around an upended desk, coming to stand directly in front of Tarrant before speaking. "Okay, I remember now…but what exactly concerning this are you pissed about again? That there aren't any more published works featuring us?" Tarrant gazed up into the ex-priest's hazel eyes and then pushed himself up from the sofa to stand with inches between them. "Those who are trying their damndest to keep us alive within the realm of fan fiction are being slowly strangled by lack of support from their intended audience. It's sickening. The amount of thought and work taken to compose stories that can even half-way capture my character's depth are sparse as it is. Yet, when these fiction writers submit works, there is little to no response. Some even end up having to consistently review each other's works in order to even get any feedback about the quality."

Damien took a breath, _Gotta calm him down. The keep can't take much more of his explosive reactions_. "So, you wanna see some more support? Is that it? I mean, that seems like an okay thing to want, but you can't _make_ people review things." Gerald shook his head in frustration, "You don't see the worst of it. Lack of reviews _is_ disheartening, but what is truly enraging is when people post only negative things or outright accusations of plagiarism against these well-meaning individuals." He looked up into Damien's eyes, coldfire smoldering within their depths, "Even I could not conceive of so low a blow as to have unfounded accusations plastered about for all to see. It's ridiculous. There are bound to be many similar tales of us throughout the entirety of this thing they call the internet." Damien looked puzzled, "Inter-net?" Gerald sighed, "Nevermind."

Damien recovered quickly, "Well, if these reviewers have a problem with what the authors are writing, why don't they just contact the person privately first with their concerns?" Gerald waved his hand in negation, "They do not care. They are trolling for a hyper-response of anger from the author or fellow reviewers, if there _were_ any others that is." The ex-priest looked thoughtful for a moment, glancing out the window as he spoke again, "Well, I suppose they got their troll then." Tarrant canted his head to the side as if to ask what he meant, so he explained, "You said they were _trolling_ for a type of response. I just meant that they should be happy then since we're standing here discussing it out in the open."

The adept stood with head bowed, thoughtful, for a moment. "You're right. We should act instead of playing into their hands as we are." "But Gerald, how would we accomplish that?" Damien asked, thinking many woe-is-me and here-we-go-again thoughts. Tarrant explained, "This author is going to remove all of her fics from this site, which is a pity since there are 20 fics claimed by her alone. And one that is an ongoing story, as yet unfinished. I suppose it will be another site finding out how you fare in 'Darkness Within' when it is finally finished." Damien laughed, saying "Yeah, that one's about to drive me nuts with the crap being dropped on me in it. Wonder what she'll have me doing when you finally wake me up as an undead being?" Tarrant chuckled, "Something nasty, I'm sure." Looking around at the dismal suite, Damien grabbed the arm of Tarrant's coat and pulled him toward the door. "C'mon, let's get over to the other site so she can get on with it. I wanna know what happens! Those other folks can just sit and review their own words here now."

**E/N**: Well, that was fun. Sorry, but I won't be allowing just any old review to be posted on this one, or any others for that matter, so don't waste your time. If you'd like to know where I may be moving to, then PM me. If not, then whatever. Good freakin night.


End file.
